Grannymar

David Maybury wrote a short piece on Tuesday, about the Beano celebrating 70 years since it first appeared in print.

The image is from The Book Cave

I was not born when it first appeared but the mention brought back memories for me. The Beano made many appearances in our household during my childhood. It did not matter who bought it, we all managed to devour the stories in our own time. We did not have a regular order for this comic-cut as we called it, but bought back numbers for one or two old brown pennies.

Two strong memories come to mind. The first was while staying with my Grandmother during the summer school holidays, my brother and I bought a copy of the Beano. We had hardly finished looking at it when my uncle who was unmarried at the time and still living with his mother, asked to read it. He went off to his room with it and we never saw the comic again that night.

Next morning we told granny what happened. Once my uncle had gone to work she sent us up to his room to look for it. As we reached the top of the stairs her voice rang out “Don’t be looking at those dirty books!” This remark was always followed by a hearty laugh. My uncle had several stacks of ‘Men Only’ and a few copies lay open on his desk. Naturally we had a peek…. even if we didn’t understand the half of it.

The other memory was from a time away from home when I was about eight years old. I was now staying with an aunt and uncle. Again I had bought a copy of the Beano. My aunt asked where I got that rubbish. She confiscated it and handed me a soft leather bound gilt edged book and told me to read that instead. It was a copy of David Copperfield. The pages were as fine as tissue and I found it difficult to separate them. The language was way beyond my comprehension.

One of these days I might give David (Copperfield) a second chance….

Sunday morning sitting sipping coffee with a large slice of cake at The Park Cafe in Wiesbaden, Germany was a favourite pastime in the early 70’s for me. People watching at the outdoor tables in summer time, or inside enjoying the warmth and reading the days English newspapers that we picked up at the HaupBarnhof (Central Train Station) on our way.

The Character of the Park Cafe changed when the sun went down. Coffee and cake were still available but they usually followed Starters and Main Courses. The centre of the floor became a square for dancing, and the rhythm from the combo in the corner soon had you joining in the dancing. I have many memories of evenings spent there with friends, eating, drinking and dancing.

I was young then and every social occasion seemed to include alcohol. Now what brought that to mind I hear you ask?

One morning during the week while enjoying my coffee and the last slice of cake from my cake tins, my mind drifted back over the years… Shaking myself from my daydreams I sorted through the bundle of papers on a side table. My eye was drawn to something I had missed earlier, it was an article on the dangers of heavy drinking….

It went into great detail and to be truthful it scared the life out of me.

So that’s it! I have decided!

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There is no easy solution so after today; there will be no more

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READING!

I keep saying it – Where would we be without our commenter’s?

A ‘Strange but True’ themed day was suggested by Steph, so get your thinking caps on while you read this and then share your story.

One bright September morning when I was aged four, mammy dressed me up and put a large bow on my hair. We were taking my older brother to school. At the time I didn’t realise that she wanted to enrol me for the following September. The school was run by an order of nuns and Sister Patrick the Principal, announced to my mother that she would take then and there that day! I had no time to prepare and Mammy left in shock without (at that time) her only daughter!

My teacher for the first couple of years was called Miss Kierce. Naturally when I came home I talked non stop about her. Daddy said to me that in his part of the country (Co Clare) she would be called Kearse and that I was to tell her. I think it was the first thing I said to her the next day. The banter went backward and forward through me, and we discovered that she was from Ennis in Co Clare, not many miles from Kildysart where my father was born.

Miss Kierce asked if daddy ever went down to Clare and precocious little me said “Of course he did, he went to see Granny Kildysart!” So the message came home: “Daddy Miss Kierce says; next time you are going to Kildysart will you drop her off in Ennis!”

Weeks passed and eventually daddy was arranging to go to Clare, so I again brought messages back and forth. Times and dates were sorted and on the day teacher came home from school with me and she and daddy set off on the journey. Driving from Dublin to Ennis at the mouth of the Shannon in the days before motorways, gave plenty of time for questions to be asked and answers given. Daddy’s first question to all young women was usually “Did I know your mother?” Daddy did not know her mother but discovered that he knew her Godfather!

Miss Kierce’s Godfather was daddy’s Uncle Jim! The same Uncle Jim who came to our house for lunch every Tuesday and stayed all day!

Grand Uncle Jim

When I married Jack back in 1977, I wanted a simple wedding with no fuss. My friends were all well married and at 30 I was considered a very late bride (thankfully that silly talk has vanished)! I settled on a two piece outfit with crochet top and linen skirt in Ecru. It was right for me with my deep auburn hair. Jack as I have said before was older and walked with a slight limp due to injuries he sustained in Burma during WW11. Jack always referred to the injured leg as ‘the wooden leg’! He was a widower when I met him.

Walking up the aisle with Daddy who was ill.

Now we are married!

Several years later my brother was researching our family history. On a visit to Co Clare he spent several hours looking at the archives of the Clare Champion, a local weekly newspaper. He sent me a copy of a cutting. It was a description of a wedding. The date was 30 Jan 1900 and the Groom a widower, was marrying a woman much younger than he was. She had auburn hair. The description of the bride’s outfit told us it was the same colour as mine. The Groom did have a wooden leg. How do I know? The bridal couple were my paternal grandparents. The bride was Granny Kildysart!

Now you must have a strange but true story to share with us. I’m off to buy a horse, I’ll talk to you much later!

This topic has buzzed about inside my head like a nagging tooth for several months now. Lying in bed the other night during a power cut I listened to the radio through tiny earphones attached to my mobile phone. It was the jolt needed to pull it together.

My mobile is a Nokia 6610i, still giving faithful service after three years. It measures 10.5 x 4.5 x 2cms. I tucked it under my pillow to stop it slipping down the back of my bed, Tissues, reading glasses - the spare ones for reading in bed, my phone and medication have at times found their way through that tiny space. The bed is heavy and pulling it out is an activity endured only when necessary.

It is a far cry from the radio we listened to when I was growing up many years ago. That radio was a piece of furniture, an unmoveable feast! The first time I actually realised this was at secondary school, one of my class mates was talking about how she lost the radio. She searched the house for it before finding it under the bed! Our radio was larger and heavier than a family sized Microwave. It lived on top of Daddy’s desk in the alcove beside the fire. Daddy’s chair was always within arms reach of it. No way could you lose it or fit it under a bed!

The radio is still about although it has not worked for years. Brother No.2 took it when Daddy died with the hope of finding parts and getting it going once more. Unable to find the items required and not wanting to part with this token of our /his past, it sat in his mini museum alongside his other treasures of an earlier life. Slowly over the years it has moved along the shelf until finally it was relegated to a high shelf in the utility room where it sits today looking forlorn and unloved.

This radio arrived all bright and shining to our home as a wedding present for my mum and dad in 1941. There was a choice of wavelengths; long, medium and short. My earliest memories are of Radio Eireann and BBC Home Service. Daddy had the habit of tuning in to BBC Home Service for the 7am Morning News programme and switching over to Radio Eireann for the 8am news. Mammy loved to listen to the afternoon play on BBC as she waded through a mountain of ironing, with the help of a bar of Cleeves Toffee. On Christmas Eve we followed Santa’s preparations with the elves checking the gifts for all the children before leaving the North Pole. Somehow it never registered that all the names called out were Irish or had an Irish touch to them!

Lunchtime listening in our school years brought regular episodes of the Kennedy’s of Castleross and a very staid version of Hospital’s Requests on a Wednesday. The latter seemed to play only classical music, Irish diddlie di, or hymns. John McCormack’s recordings were regularly requested The messages of greeting for patients were delivered in very sombre or grave tones, enough to add pain rather than bring comfort. Then a young Bank Clerk from Limerick called Terry Wogan arrived like a tornado blowing fresh air across the airwaves. He spoke irreverently of Matrons, bedpans and pills and the ludicrous reality of lunch at 11am. The programme changed Tempo and we were introduced to the music of the day. I am sure it had a very positive effect on patients who in those days had longer spells in hospital. A simple appendix operation meant a week in bed followed by a week up and about on the ward. That is how it still was in 1966 when my appendix was removed.

Most of that happened before TV began in Ireland. We listened to the radio and made our own pictures inside our heads.

Paddy Crosbie was Question Master of The School around the Corner, where each week, two teams from different Primary schools battled it out to show their knowledge. The programme always finished with the ‘Hard Word’, when Paddy asked each member to write down the meaning of a multi-syllable word. The answers were then read out to the listeners and everyone shared the prize of a box of sweets.

Question Time, for the adults was watched over by our other dad patent leather hairdo Joe Linnane. My mother dated him before she met my dad. We never actually met him, but were glad she chose dad. It didn’t stop us teasing her every time we heard him or saw him in later years on Radio Telifis Eireann.

We had a weekly series of the Foley Family, an early attempt at radio soap. There was Cheili House, a programme of traditional Irish music, and Take the Floor with Dingo – did he have another name? Dingo was the compère; he introduced the musicians and dancers and was caller for the dance steps just like at a barn dance. As a child I thought it was silly having dancing on the radio as you couldn’t see the steps, mind you I feel the same about cooking on the radio today. Joe Lynch, from Cork was another entertainer, who grew-up within Radio Eireann as an actor, singer and comedian, but really came into his own with his Living with Lynch.

I remember a detective series where the story built over several weeks. One week there was a car chase through the streets of Dublin, ending with the criminal crashing into a railing near the Four Courts. We were on the edges of our seats and chewing our fingernails with the tension and excitement. It was all the more believable when the following day; Daddy piled us into the car and took us to see the crash site. There was the car stuck in the railings! Daddy had heard of a crash on the news but let on to us that it was the car from the programme. Somehow I don’t think that would pass the children of today.

My older brothers graduated to Radio Caroline and Radio Luxembourg and we became interested in the Top Twenty and all the hits of the day. If mammy and daddy were out we played about with the dials and wavelengths, sometimes we managed to eavesdrop on ship to shore telephone calls. Usually it was one side of a conversation, but if we managed to get both sides we felt we were very clever.

Now we have digital this and digital that, instant satellite connections across the globe. We hear and see the news as it happens and at times before it happens. Journalists today are in such a hurry to be the first with the news that they they tell us what they think will unfold. Does the fast pace make the news any better or make us happier?

What ever happened to the words of good old W. H. Davies

WHAT is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Yesterday I tried to answer a few questions. With one of my answers I gave away a snippet from my past. Mention was made of the good old days of Radio Luxembourg. The DJ who joined us for Christmas 1971 in Wiesbaden was Bob Stewart. The stories he told certainly made us laugh and the time passed in a flash. Alas, he had to leave us early on Boxing Day to drive back and open up the Station at 6pm. A tuck box was filled with tasty goodies and there was a special request for some of my Christmas pudding. (I plan to include it for a Food Monday in the autumn.)

In the picture above is Bob Stewart on the left with Mark Wesley and Peter Powell. I think it is from around 1977. The one below of Bob is how I like to remember him.

So what were we listening to all those years ago?

Ernie the Fastest Milkman in the West, Sung by Benny Hill was the No.1 for several weeksaround that Christmas.

Top Twenty August 1 1965, the year I left school.

1. Help! Beatles (Parlophone)

2. You’ve got your troubles Fortunes (Decca)

3. We gotta get out of this place Animals (Columbia)

4. Mr. Tambourine man Byrds (CBS)

5. Catches if you can Dave Clark Five (Columbia)

6. Tossing and turning Ivy League (Piccadilly)

7. There but for fortune Joan Baez (Fontana)

8. Heart full of soul Yardbirds (Columbia)

9. With these hands Tom Jones (Decca)

10. Wooly Bully Sam the Sham (MGM)

11. In the middle of nowhere Dusty Springfield (Philips)

12. Summer nights Marian Faithfull (Decca)

13. Everyone’s gone to the moon Jonathan King (Decca)

14. He’s got no love Searchers (Decca)

16. Zorba’s dance Marcello Minerbi (Durium)

17. A walk in the black forest Horst Jankowski (Mercury)

18. Too many rivers Brenda Lee (Brunswick)

19. Say you’re my girl Roy Orbison (London)

20. I’m alive Hollies (Parlophone)

Weekend Chart New Musical Express (Saturday, July 31, 1965).

And almost a year later:

Top Twenty from Sunday June 26 1966.

1. Paperback Writer Beatles (Parlophone)

2. Strangers In The Night Frank Sinatra (Reprise)

3. Monday, Monday Mama’s and Papa’s (RCA)

4. Sunny Afternoon Kinks (Pye)

5. Don’t Answer Me Cilla Black (Parlophone)

6. River Deep-Mountain High Ike and Tina Turner (London)

7. Nobody Needs Your Love Gene Pitney (Statesite)

8. When A Man Loves A Woman Percy Sledge (Atlantic)

9. Promises Ken Dodd (Columbia)

10. Sorrow Merseys (Fontana)

11. Paint It Black Rolling Stones (Decca)

12. Don’t Bring Me Down Animals (Decca)

13. Over Under Sideways Down Yardbirds (Columbia)

14. Hideaway Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky Mick and Tich (Fontana)

15. Wild Thing Troggs (Fontana)

16. Sloop John B Beach Boys (Capitol)

17. It’s A Man’s World James Brown (Pye Int.)

18. Get Away Georgie Fame (Columbia)

19. Bus Stop Hollies (Parlophone)

20. Lana Roy Orbison (London)

New Musical Express (Wednesday, June 22, 1966).

So how many of these do you remember?

Jefferson Davis is a naughty boy ‘cause he tagged me.

This time his idea for the meme came from a book. “The Three Bears“, by Derec Jones.

“Bring to your consciousness those memories of the things you’ve seen and the places you’ve been over the last twenty-four hours. Now select a one-minute sequence of events and try to replay it over and over again in your mind.”

Here’s one minute in the life of Grannymar

Brrring, Brrring! Brrring, Brrring!

Off come the rubber gloves as I reach for the phone. It is twenty past one in the afternoon and my face is bursting into life as a smile stretches from ear to ear even before I say hello.

“Hi mum! The flight was on time and we have just landed at Heathrow.”

“Elly! It is wonderful to hear you and know you are back this side of the world” I say. “Did you have a good week?”

Elly goes on to give me details about her week in Arizona, in 30 seconds flat. I hear about work, her colleagues, friends and the good people I refer to as her American Family. She passes on their good wishes and tells me their news. She needs to change terminals so I let her go as she promises to call me later when she reaches home.

Elly is as effervescent as she always was, and I hope she never changes.

It is no different now to those far off days at the school gate, when my five year old little bundle of energy put her hot little hand into my frozen one, and told me at breakneck speed, all the stories and secrets of the day as she skipped along by my side on our journey home from school.

So thanks to Jeff I have had double pleasure, re-living the phone call and the sound of Elly’s voice, while remembering that hot little hand encased in mine and the close bond we have between us.

We all have sounds stored in our memory banks. Sounds that can bring you right back to a particular place, or to a moment in time.

The rhythmic sound of mammy beating/creaming butter and sugar in a large delft baking bowl with a wooden spoon, it was the first stage in the making of all cakes. Remember it was before we had food processors and electric mixers.

The pressure cooker sounding like a steam train as it came up to pressure. It was used at least twice a week to boil marrow bones or chicken carcases for the making of stock for soup. Once cooked, the bones were soft; the liquid was put through a strainer and left to cool, usually overnight. The following morning the liquid had set like a jelly with a layer of solid fat on top.

Irish dancing on the radio – No not me! It was ‘Take the Floor’ on Radio Eireann, with Dingo the presenter calling out the steps like they do in square or barn dancing, while we heard the music and the sound of the dancer’s feet.

The sound of coal or logs cracking brightly in the hearth on a cold winter’s night…

And singing voices… Around the fireside in our house when visitors came, everyone had their own song:

‘An Cuileann’ (The Coulin).* sung by my maternal grandmother right up to her 80th year. An Aunt and Uncle with their rendition of the love duets from the Shows, Bitter Sweet, Bless the Bride and Rose Marie to name a few.

There was Nora from Cork who always sang ‘If I were a blackbird’ leading to songs that included many of the 32 counties on this Island of Ireland. These included Rose of Tralee, The County of Armagh, Galway Bay, Come back Paddy Reilly and The Kerry Dances, The Mountains of Mourne, Skibbereeen and Danny Boy.

I vividly remember following a wedding, one of the guests, a gentleman from Derry singing a hauntingly beautiful version of ‘She moved through the Fair’. I never met him before or since, but when I hear that song I am back there beside the fire transfixed!

My final musical memory for now takes me back to the early 70’s, when I was involved with a musical society in Dublin. We attended the annual AIMS (Association of Irish Musical Societies) Awards weekend during the month of May in Waterford. The hotel was fully booked by the members with the overflow staying at other hotels and B&B’s in the area. The atmosphere was very similar to that of the recent Irish Blog Awards, a large group of people of very different ages and from all walks of life, friendly and inclusive, with everyone sharing information and stories of shows they had performed.

The Awards were presented on the Saturday night at a dinner, and naturally with a common interest in music we sang the night away finishing every year at 6am with the members of St Agnes’ Belfast, and The Glasnevin (Dublin), the largest of the Societies leading us in six part harmony of ‘All in an April Evening’! Once again whenever I hear that sung I am back with those wonderfully talented people.

What sounds move your heart?

* I found an instrumental version of ‘An Cuileann’ by J.J. Sheridan on Soul of the Irish Piano

Another leaf has fallen from the tree that is my life.

My sister phoned to let me know about the death this morning of a man who was part of our childhood. Small in stature, but big in heart, he was known and respected throughout the neighbourhood. You have heard about him before today, I talked about him here.

Mr ‘O’ was always helpful, always happy and smiling. He owned the local newsagents and sweet shop. We were allowed to dally for an hour before deciding how to get the best value for the pennies burning a hole in our hot little hands. “How much is a this Mr O”, or “How many of those for a penny” were questions always answered with patience and a smile.

When he knew that Jack & Grannymar, yes, it was always Jack first, were coming down to Dublin for a weekend he ordered an extra copy of Jack’s favourite English paper!

Sweet jars in a row like these will always be a reminder of Mr O. RIP.

I arrived on Thursday

to a Red carpet welcome

and it was a pity I had to

arrive like this:

All because finally after 30 years in

Northern Ireland I became an

Orange woman!

Now you have all watched, listened and read while I complained about the endless dreary grey days over the past several months. Alas I spent most of it indoors. Indoors makes for pale people and ‘pale’ is certainly not my colour. My pride took over and after a lengthy debate (five minutes) drastic measures were needed. An appointment was quickly made at my local beauty salon. It had worked for Elly & George’s wedding back last June, everyone said how well I looked, so why not just repeat the performance once more!

I first had the now grey eyebrows and eyelashes dyed to add definition and then when all was dry I went to the spray paint shop! Now my instructions were as before: I wanted a healthy glow and not to look like I was marinated in carrot and orange juice for a month! She must have misheard the instruction, the difficulty was that the colour became stronger as it settled in. By morning Mr Robert Kilroy Silk was anaemic compared to me! Having arranged to meet Elly by lunchtime I decided to set out and she would come up with a solution for me. Little did I realise how punny that would turn out to be!

The eyelashes were the correct colour but alas the eyebrows looked as they were painted with an inch wide brush and the colour was completely wrong for me. If I was no picture, then Elly’s face sure made up for it! “OMG! What happened to you mum?” replaced the usual excited welcome and hug.

While I sipped coffee frantic calls were made to Elly’s good friend Ena at Isis Beauty Salon, and appointments were juggled about to accommodate me. Ena set to work and sorted the eyebrows. It was at this point we reached item No 3 from yesterdays list. You remember the ‘dipped, stripped and went a step further than Cleopatra!’ It is what you have waited a full day for. Using alcohol soaked pads she gently started to rub my face. “Yes its working”, squealed Elly, and I am not sure if it was encouragement for Ena or to appease me. Since I was lying down with my eyes closed I had no idea if I was now striped like a Zebra or spotted like a Leopard!

“VODKA!” said Ena. “Buy some on the way home and use it to bleach the skin”

Cleopatra bathed in Asses’ milk, so Grannymar would bathe in Vodka! I did and you all saw the result on Saturday! “This will make great posting material” I said to Elly. “Yes mum it will, but save it until next week or everyone will be walking up to you all night and giving you funny looks!” A couple of hours and I was ready for anything.

George arrived home with his work colleague Keith, our guest for dinner. Since he was going to the Irish Blog Awards and the Photo Walk organised by Red Mum with Elly early in the day it was natural for him to stay. We had great fun and we laughed about my disaster as we all prepared dinner. When you visit Elly it is all hands on deck and everyone plays a part in preparing the food. Wine was poured and the stories were told. It was a lovely beginning to a great weekend. So you see I was not kidding about having a Toyboy for dinner.

Once I entered the Alexander Hotel the Toyboys were surrounding me and falling to their knees.

Darren Byrne on his knees

Late in the evening I shared a couch with Twenty Major while being interviewed by Conn Ó Muíneacháin! Sworn to secrecy so there will be no pictures of Twenty! We finished with the story of the young gentleman who earlier shook my hand and told me I made his night, (now you don’t expect me to name him here, do you?). I told Conn that it was many a long year since I made any man’s night! With that the tape ran out and it was time for Cinderella to leave the Ball.

We had fun, we had laughter and met amazingly talented people, it was an honour to be there and the memories will linger for many a long year! Without you, my friends who read my blog and add the comments, none of this would happen>

Thank You!

It is Tuesday morning in a cold but sunny Dublin suburb and I have a few minutes to play on my blog. So much has happened since this time last week. I at that point was still on the long, short list for The Irish Blog Awards!

So exactly what happened in the week?

1. Finally after 30 years in Northern Ireland I became an Orange woman!

2. I was given a red carpet welcome to Dublin.

3. I was dipped, stripped and went a step further than Cleopatra!

4. I had a Toyboy for dinner.

5. I shared a stage with Grandad.

6. I had Toyboys falling to their knees and shared a couch with Twenty Major!

7. I WON AN ARRANGEMENT OF BEAUTIFUL fLOWERS

Now if it is details you want you will have to wait for my return to home territory. And I plead with all of you not to mention VODKA!!!!!!!